Collected Poems 1947-1997 - Ginsberg Allen - Страница 183

Antique anecdotes,

rare libraries lain

back of the brain.

Now we are in bed

he kisses my head

his hand on my arm

holds my side warm

He presses my leg

I don’t have to beg

his sweet penis heat

enlarged at my hip,

kiss his neck with my lip.

Small as a kid

his ass is not hid

I can touch, I can play

with his thighs any way

My cheek to his chest

my body’s his guest

he offers his breast

his belly, the rest

hug and kiss to my bliss

Come twice at last

he offers his ass

first time for him

to be entered at whim

of my bare used cock—

his cheeks do unlock

tongue & hand at soft gland

Alas for my dreams

my part’s feeble it seems

Familiar with lust

heartening the dust

of 50 years’ boys’

abandoned love joys

Not to queer my idea

he’s willing & trembles

& his body’s nimble

where I want my hard skin

I can’t get it on in.

Well another day comes

Church bells have rung

dawn blue in New York

I eat vegetables raw

Sun flowers, cole slaw

Age shortens my years

yet brings these good cheers

Some nights’re left free

& Love’s patient with me

December 16, 1978, 6 A.M.

December 31, 1978

Shining Diamonds & Sequins glitter

     Grand Ballroom Waldorf

     Astoria on the TV Screen

radiant shifting goodbye to

     Times Square Phantoms

     waving

massed eyeglasses & umbrellas’

     rainy hands over

     heads

Celebrating China

     diplomatic relations

     Disco in Peking

Congressional black & tan faces

     on the news-dots sober Committee Report

     Concludes Conspiracy Killing

     Kennedy & Martin Luther King

President & Peacemaker last

     Decade departed

mysteriously gloomy miasma

     mind of NY Times Vietnam

     nuclear Warren Commission

     exploded, lies & confusion

popping firecrackers Razz-ma-Tazz

     in mylar hats under klieg lights

     dancing to Guy Lombardo

Hitchy Kitchy Koo in eyeglasses

     & bowties

with tinkling Pianos, Trombones

     & tubas above the round white

     champagne tables

Old Folks smiling into camera one

     last time

appreciating the Royal Canadian

     Nostalgia

among sweepstake kitchen

     sinks & refrigerators

advertised before the deodorized

     stickup by Count Dracula

     with popping eyeballs.

How enthusiastic the soap ads

     while masses honk paper

     horns

between December’s canyon’d building

walls straight-sided up

     thru red misted sky

     above Gotham

Broadway Oomp-pa-pa-ing its

     regards to Heaven the

     umpteenth time,

tin Trumpets waiting to

     announce the year’s

     midnight,

Big teeth having a good time,

     Puerto Ricans smiling

under 44th Street marquees

     greeting the camera’s

     million-eyed blank

     Hope the itching’s gone—

Live from New York! thousands

     scream delight

roaring the clock along simultaneous

     congratulations Network Chairman

     Wm. S. Paley—

Forgiveness! Time! the ball’s

     falling down, drums

     roll loud

across America’s speaker

     systems to

Balloons! Happy New Year!

     Trumpets & Bubbles wave

     thru the brain!

Raise yr hat & shake yr bracelet

     Telephone Edie! Blow yr Trumpet

     Ganymede with a mustache